Katherine Kiss Me
by Ali Sim Alice
Summary: AU. Katherine is now a human (and is not aging rapidly as in the show). Finally leaving Mystic Falls following Stefan's ultimate rejection and the death of her daughter Nadia, she's settled in her birth town of Veliko Tarnovo in Bulgaria—trying to move on with her life again. Until she meets that ever annoying British tourist. Based on the song by Franz Ferdinand.
1. Sunkissed

**A/N: _Everyone, thank you for reading, this first chapter is very short, sorry about that, the next one will be better._**

_**I would just like to let you know that you can access more information on this story, it's setting, characters and stuff on the following blog: .com, please visit!**_

_**Also, feedback is love.**_

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It wasn't the best of days for her, the usually sunny skies were gray and there had been no signs of rain.

She left her apartment in a hurry, she was cursed with the heavy burden of becoming human again and certain things such as food, drink and a job had become paramount necessities.

Last night she had cooked beef strogonoff—it had been at least thirty years since she'd last adventured herself in the kitchen. The last time had been a rare moment of tranquility in her life, surrounded by a friend or two—true friends—a former lover and his self-imposing mother, all of them having passed away.

Time was ephemeral as a vampire, but still she had much to do as a human... always hurrying, hurrying and hurrying. At night she'd curl up on a rocking chair by her window with a glass of wine and try to ignore the pain in her back, her aching feet and that burgeoning sense of loneliness in her chest. The remorse. But she never cried, what good would it do anyway? Crying certainly wouldn't bring Nadia back from the dead and she had lost hopes of Stefan or Elijah ever loving her again.

And so a year passed and then a second one and each day she lived with a little less of fear. Fear of being found, perhaps. Fear of dying, aging and hurting, fear of—of many things she could not name.

…

She walked past several shops and cafés before halting at the wooden gate of Nevena's Hostel. Tourist awaited her for a morning tour of tsarevits and then an afternoon of shopping. All people thought about was shopping and more shopping. Rare were the times when she felt true interest and excitement from the town's "fine" visitors.

A group of ten or so loud talking Americans walked outside with a breathless and graying Nevena ushering them, her chubby cheeks red from all the work. Katherine couldn't help but feel pity for the old woman. Nevena had been one of her few friends and counted on her to keep tourists and customers coming and garanteeing her monthly income, as well as the maintenance of a house as ancient and huge as hers.

"_Zdravei*_, Nevena." Katherine said with a small smile, but the lady never was satisfied and had to hug her and give her those two kisses on the cheeks.

"Katerina, don't forget that lunch will be here today at one o'clock!"

"_Da, da*_... don't worry." Katherine said with a dismissive tone. However, at this point in her life there was no one as special to her as Nevena. "Everyone, please, if you'll follow me." The tourists all followed her, snapping pictures of the buildings, signs and people. The job wasn't difficult, it's not like they were so interested in history and art—she was, however, but never went beyond the essentials.

…

From across the street a pair of blue eyes watched her intently. The flow of her long curls and the way her cotton white dress contrasted on her sunkissed skin. She was beautiful, he thought, and he wanted to kiss her.

…

That evening the tourists were out to some party and Katherine sat with Nevena in the kitchen, having just finished their dinner.

"You know, you could just come here and live with me..." Katherine nodded* her head. No.

"Money's tight Nevena, but I need my independence... you understand?"

"Yes, yes. How was it today, the group seemed to enjoy it."

"It was okay, normal." they stayed in silence for a long moment. Nevena's eyes examined Katherine's face and she reached for her hand. "Nevena, I'm not a good person. I've hurt people and killed people. I shouldn't even be here. I mean, what for?"

"Unlike you I am a Christian woman. I was taught to forgive and that everyone deserves redemption and a second chance. What I see is that you are wasting yours. Instead of travelling and living well, trying to be happy you are letting months and years pass you by just like that—Katerina, do you not have dreams or hopes for the future? Do you not have desires?"

"I'm tired." Katherine breathed out, her eyes forcefully shut. She refused to cry.

"You're twenty-six years old, you're no tired, you haven't even started yet." Neven scolded, her green eyes were a mix of annoyance and intigue.

"I look twenty-six but I feel five-hundred, Nevena." The elderly woman looked into Katherine's shiny brown eyes for what seemed an eternity. Yes, katherine had old eyes, eyes of pain and tiredness... but she had such beautiful eyes, it's not possible that she was ready to give up yet.

"Five-hundred or not you still have a lifetime ahead of you. Live it."

"And you?" Katherine asked accusingly.

"I don't." it was barely a whisper, but plagued Katherine's heart with grief. A single tear made it's way down Nevena's cheek as she quickly whiped it. "It's the smell of onions on my hands."

…

He sat on the terrace of a fancy restaurant, staring intently at the beautiful colors being reflected on the Tzarevetz. For the past ten years he'd been travelling non-stop, writing book after book and trying not to think past which pretty woman would accompany under his sheets tonight.

He thought of the woman in the white dress that night, as he pleasured another. He could sense a pattern beginning to form.

* * *

*"Zdravei" is hello in Bulgarian

"Da" means yes. "Ne" means no.

In Bulgaria, please correct me if I'm wrong, when you nod it means no and when you shake your head, it means yes.


	2. Valeri

_**A/N: The lin**__**k to my blog is on my profile page! But here it goes again: .com. **_

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He sat perched on the dark wood counter of the bar, nursing his third dose of dry whiskey. It was just him and the bar owner, a balding man with a dark moustache who once in a while paused his crystal polishing to glance at the single customer. It was four in the afternoon.

With his orange flannel on hand, the bar owner crossed the room and cried almost frantically for someone passing outside. He shrugged and could care less. Suddenly he heard different steps hitting the wood flooring, quick and lighter steps.

"Hey, you!" She called loudly, annoyance laced in her raspy tone of voice. He turned around slowly, only to be surprised by the young and lovely face of the white-dressed woman. He smiled ever-so-slightly. She was a temperamental one. "Valeri needs to close, it's passed his lunch time. The bar re-opens at six."

"Yes, yes." He said with a smirk as he gulped down his entire new serving of the drink and lay a few leva bills on the counter. "_Sajavaliam*_, madame."

"British?" She asked with a raised brow.

"And you're American?"

"Bulgarian." He followed her out.

The sun had finally reappeared. Her hair, her skin, her eyes... everything shined.

"I'm Ives, Daniel Ives."

"No, you're a James Bond wannabe." She said defiantly, trying to hide her smile.

"Well—I prefer Ives. And your name?"

"That's for me to know. Ciao, Mr. Ives." She pat him on the shoulder with a smirk and left towards the opposite direction of his hotel.

…

Katherine passed by the little farmer's market only a block from her home and stocked on vegetables, fruit and herbs. The little seeds she planted in those colorful ceramic flowerpots on her kitchen window were just beginning to grow.

Up the street and turning left on a whirlwind of stone-paved streets and ancient houses and she arrived at her own home. A lovely revival-era house that had been divided in three apartments, hers was on the third floor. Too many steps, but the view was amazing. She had almost all of Tarnovo just outside her living room and bedroom windows. It was bright inside, but a pleasant cool surrounded her modest kitchen, thanks to the little ceramic tiles that surrounded half of the very high wall. Her cabinets she had painted a deep red, the color of blood... and the rest was the rest. Plants everywhere because she had learned to appreciate them and paintings she had bought from the University art students scattered on the whit-washed walls. This was home.

She removed her leather sandalls by the door and walked around barefoot, letting her hair down from it's original bun. She put her groceries away. The place was pristine—there was nothing she could possibly still clean to occupy the hours. She couldn't sleep or else she'd spend the entire night rolling around in bed—the perfect invitation for those painful memories.

The church bells rung from far and she watched as the elderly men and women of the street shut their doors and walked up to the church. She wished her life could've been more simple. As simple as leaving the house everyday at six to go pray. If she believe in God, she would probably go with them, there was much she needed to pray for, repent of. Her place was in hell, if there were such a place...

Katherine turned around and picked up her reading glasses, sitting on her white sofa, covered in pillows of different colors and patterns. She opened the leather bound journal, the last thing Stefan Salvatore had ever given her and began to write... She had never had patience for this particular task, but lately she'd felt an urge. To write down her thoughts? To scribble? She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on a pillow. Blue eyes, aging eyes on rough, tan skin... She shook the thought of the man from earlier away and decided to write a letter. She didn't know to whom... letters seemed easier.

…

He was again at the bar. Six on the dot.

Mr. Valeri opened the door for him with a role of the eyes. Ives was the first customer inside.

"What was her name?" He asked, offering the man a few levas. Valeri pushed the money away with a frown.

"_Katerina_."

"Katerina?" The man shook his head in confirmation. "Where is she?"

Valeri shrugged.

"_Ne snam_.*"

Ives nodded in disappointment and turned around abruptly. He needed to see her again before he moved on to Romania.

…

Katherine heard a loud knock on her door and glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. It was almost seven. And she had been able to write only seven lines. She groaned and made her way towards the front door.

As she opened it assuming it was one of the neighbors or at best Nevena, she was surprised to see Ives with a bottle of wine and a single pink rose on the other side. The way he always wore suits reminded her of Elijah... but still, there was something about him that wasn't formal at all.

"Did Valeri tell you where I lived?" She asked, hands on her hips and a deep frown. Her eyebrows were knit, faining irritation, but a look deep into her eyes and he knew it was all a façade.

"He told me your name. Small town. I went and asked at the hostel you were coming out of yesterday. Very nice old lady..." katherine rolled her eyes and let him in.

"Shoes off." She ordered, taking the bottle and the rose from him and setting them on her coffee table. She mumbled some inteligible things under her breath, probably a string os swear words and motioned for him to take a seat on her sofa.

She walked outside of the room for a moment and returned seconds later with a bottle opener and two crystal goblets.

"If I still had a father you'd be dead meat by now..." She said with a smile, setting everything on the table and grabbing a large red pillow to sit on the floor, opposite him.

"Well thank heavens for that." She frowned and his blue eyes went wide in horror. "I'm so, so sorry... I didn't mean to—I'm sorry about your father!" But all she did was laugh. She laughed loudly and carelessly like she hadn't in a long while. He was mesmerized by the way her cheeks turned a bright red and that huge smile softened her features.

"It's fine... was a long time ago." She smiled.

"Oh."

"So, care to tell me why on such a whim you decided to hunt me down and knock on my door without notice?" His blue eyes locked with her brown eyes.

"Are you over eighteen?"

"Yes—definitely yes."

"Good. I want to kiss you." Katherine glanced at him questioningly.

She couldn't read him... and that made him all the more dangerous... and alluring. After a moment of silence in which he served them both of some fine cabernet sauvignon, she leaned forward, eyes locked with his.

"Well than you're going to have to earn it." She whispered. His eyes lowered to her lips and back up again.

"How so?" He whispered back.

The little temptress simply smiled and leaned back again.

"So, what kind of music do you enjoy?"

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_***"Sajavaliam" means sorry (for a mista**__**ke)**_

_***"Ne Snam" means I don't **__**know.**_


	3. Two Stubborn Goats

She awoke that morning wrapped in his arms, fully clothed. For a moment she was utterly shocked. Shocked that despite all of the wine, the easy conversation and his charming smile, she hadn't simply made love to him—it seemed ludicrous that a woman who had formerly lived of violence, sex and booze would submit to herself such a long time without… _intimacy_. But she did. Was she punishing herself? What was she trying to prove? He kissed the back of her shoulder gently, a chaste little kiss. She moaned and smiled coyly.

"G'morning, stranger." He whispered in her ear and she chuckled. She was indeed a stranger—to him and lately also to herself.

"I can't believe we passed out on the couch…" She said, rubbing her sore neck as she sat up. "What time is it?" She looked behind her at the clock and groaned. She was late for the tour with the next batch of tourists. "Damn it, Nevena will have my head for this…"

"Darling, it's Sunday…"

"Oh." Katherine blushed a deep red.

Ives pulled her by the way, between his thighs, massaging her neck and shoulders gently and precisely. Katherine easily let herself relax.

"So—Daniel Ives… What's your story?"

"Not that interesting really… I was born and raised in London, went to Oxford where I graduated in English Literature with a minor in medieval history… ended up working as a professor for nearly a decade. Got married, became a widower and here I am. I write travel guides."

"I'm sorry…"

"For my wife?"

"No, for submitting yourself to writing such books." She smirked, but a glance of his towards her lips just simply knocked her into her senses. Katherine frowned deeply and her armor was instantly back on. "You should go." Her tone was serious, dark even.

"Why's that?" He cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"Because I'm not this kind of woman anymore—I don't want to be."

"What type of woman?"

"The woman who will kill you from the inside out." Now he was just down right angry.

"You wont." His stubbornness easily competed with her own. For a second there, Katherine was at a loss for words.

"You don't know me Ives." She set her stern gaze in his eyes as she motioned for her door. "You're better off catching the next train to Romania."

"I'm not."

"What?"

"I shall not be going to Romania until you woman up and tell me what the fuck is your problem!"

"I'm not a whore you meet one day and can expect to be your little sex kitten the next!"

"I never intended to give _you_ that impression, _Katerina_."

"Ah but you certainly made a point of wanting to kiss me."

"What are you _thirteen_?! Of course I want to bloody kiss you, I want much more than that—you're bloody _unbelievable_ do you know that?" She didn't say a word, simply held out the open door for him. "You know what your problem is?" This caught her attention.

"What, Ives, what's my problem? For someone who's known me for a little more than twelve hours I should say you're an expert in all things Katherine!" She shouted angrily. Her brown eyes were like to balls of fire.

"You've broken and deceived so many hearts in this _long_ life of yours that you simply don't allow yourself to be loved. You think everyone is like you." She bit her bottom lip angrily.

"Well guess what, Katherine… I'm a man who knows what he wants and fights with all he has." He stepped out of her door and sternly added, "and you love—are what I want."

Katherine's hands shook in anger. She slammed the door in his face and screamed into her pillow. What an arrogant bastard! How dare he defy her? How dare he even consider dominating her? She had fought for her own freedom all her life—it wasn't a human, British type that would be the end of that!

…

"Well I think or you're crazy or have bipolar disorder." Nevena told her later that day, serving them both with coffee as they sat in Katherine's kitchen. "He obviously is attracted to you."

"Everything was going so smoothly, so pleasantly—Damn it, why do I have to be so weak?"

"Love is not weakness, _Katerina_. The true weakness is that fear you have inside of you. Fear of what, I do not know. To me it seems like you almost ruined a potential, torrid love affair. Like the ones in the soap operas." Nevena shrugged and chuckled.

"For an old woman you're just a little _too_ forward don't you think?"

"Says the _great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother_!" Katherine frowned deeply, her brows furrowed in annoyance. "You're just angry because you wanted to kiss the big, bad English man just as much."

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